


Sunset

by raz0rgirl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-10
Updated: 2007-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raz0rgirl/pseuds/raz0rgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what do you do when the world’s about to end—for real—and you can’t do anything to change it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an AU that diverges in the middle of season 2 after "The Thin Dead Line”. 4300 words, give or take. Written for the 2007 apocalyptathon on LJ for the following prompt: Something old skool, with a focus on Gunn, Cordy, and Wes. Gen or the pairing of your choice.

_They stood on the roof of the hotel with the setting sun behind them and watched as the planet’s shadow crept higher. The sky darkened in slow increments. The familiar dusky pinks and blues were accented by a haze of emerald clouds, making the horizon look as though it had grown a covering of verdigris._

_“It’s beautiful,” Cordelia said. “It shouldn’t be so beautiful.” _

***

Cordelia and Wesley sat across from each other at the office’s lone desk. At the sound of someone coming through the door, they looked up from their work to share a smile. Visitors meant business - something they badly needed.

Lilah stepped into the small office space. She paused to run her finger along the top of a chair. “Nice décor,” she said. “Very…sidewalk chic.”

Wesley turned in his seat, but didn't bother rising to greet her. “To what do we owe this pleasure? And allow me to clarify: by pleasure, of course, I mean unwelcome intrusion.”

“Yes,” Cordelia said. “And how quickly can it be over?”

Lilah smiled like a shark. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want to see me," she said. "I’m here to give you a heads up about the impending apocalypse. Assuming you're interested, of course.”

“Didn’t your fancy law school teach you that assumptions make an ass…”

“I was under the impression that your little gallant-fighters-for-good mission statement might mean you'd want to hear about it,” Lilah said, cutting Cordelia off, “and I'm willing to make one of you an offer that will allow you to avoid it. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Only one?” Cordelia said. “Ooh, me! Me!”

Lilah rolled her eyes, but the rest of her response was cut off when the door opened again.

“Have any of you been outside lately?” Gunn called out as he walked into the office. “Because there are dead birds _everywhere_. Live pigeons are bad enough, but dead ones. And don’t get me started on the seagulls.”

“Canaries in the coal mine, Gunn,” Lilah said. “Happy end of the world.”

“What’s she doing here?” Gunn asked. “And what’s she talking about?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Wesley said, looking pointedly at Lilah as she stood smirking, her arms folded over the severe lines of her power suit. “Something about an apocalypse.”

“Another one?” Gunn asked, as he crossed the room to take an open chair.

“Let’s just say that this world is officially a sinking ship. It’s time to get off before it goes down.”

“’Canaries in the coalmine.’ ‘Sinking ships,’” Wesley said. “You’re mixing your metaphors, Lilah. Either say something worthwhile or leave.”

“You know, I really don’t need to deal with this hostility, especially when all I’m trying to do is help,” Lilah said. “The only thing you really need to know is that humanity is about to be hit with the worst crisis it’s ever faced, and I’m authorized to offer one of you a chance to escape it.”

“Man, you must have messed up bad to be stuck with messenger duty,” Gunn said. “Don’t you guys have couriers? Phones? Email?”

No one missed the brief look of alarm that crossed Lilah’s face at Gunn’s words or how she nervously fingered the pearls at her neck for a moment before catching herself.

“My standing with the firm, not that it's any of your business, is excellent,” she said, crossing the room to place a business card on the desk in front of Wesley. “The offer extends to you, Wesley. I suggest you act on it quickly. The rest of you—well, I’d say I was sorry, but I really don’t like you very much.”

They watched and waited as Lilah left the office, then turned to each other.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Gunn asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Cordelia said. “And I really mean that, because I haven’t had a vision in a while. It’s been at least three weeks. I’m not saying I miss the migraines, but you’d think that if a truly big bad was coming, the Powers would give us at least a small hint.”

Wesley said, “Whatever’s the story, something has her spooked. Did you see how she reacted after your crack about her having messed up somehow?”

Gunn nodded and said, “So what’s going on here? Are they trying to set some kind of weird-ass trap or is she telling something resembling the truth?”

“I’m not sure where to even start with this?” Cordelia said. “I’d say research, but research what?”

“The Host,” Gunn said. “He’s the go-to guy for the mystical clue-in. Let’s go see him.”

“Fine, but you’re doing the singing,” Cordelia said, reaching for her purse.

Wesley reached for his cane and stood up. “I suppose I should go see what Lilah is on about. Shall we meet back here?”

***

Lorne sat at the bar, taking in the stillness. It was quiet, even for the off hours. Silence had inherent qualities, and this was the kind he liked the least. It wasn’t the peaceful type, or the variety conducive to contemplation. It was more stifling. Enveloping. The kind of silence that suffocated. Still, that was better than what he’d heard the night before when the previous evening's batch of Caritas patrons had taken their turns to sing.

He was relieved when the silence ended with the clatter of Cordelia and Gunn crashing down the stairs into the club, even though he knew why they'd come. And what he’d have to tell them

“Hey, kids,” Lorne said. “What’s up?”

Cordelia said, “We have a line on an incoming Big Bad, but we don’t have any leads.”

“Remember the crazy time-stopping physicist with the accidental world-ending shtick and how bad that was?”

“That would be no,” Cordelia said.

“Ah, yes. That was that wonderful ball of sunshine and happiness, Angelkins. Short version—a few weeks ago, I got hit with a doom solo. Your former employer and I tracked this guy down, figured it out, smashed the machine that was upsetting the proverbial applecart—end of the world averted, right?”

“Okay,” Gunn said. “And how is this different than any other week?”

“The important thing here is the _one guy_ part. And the _tracking down the problem_ part. And the _being able to smash the thing causing the problem_ part. What I’ve been hearing lately? There’s nothing to pin down—no single cause. Everyone’s singing in a different key, but the words are all the same. This one’s for real, kids. The end is coming, but I can’t tell you how or why or even when.”

After a long stretch of silence, Cordelia said, “Okay, that was really helpful. But also really not.”

Lorne shrugged, saying, “It’s what I've got, sweetcheeks—and it’s all I’m going to get. I hear anyone singing, I’m heading in the opposite direction.”

“I hope Wesley found out something,” Gunn said. “Because we’re gonna need more to work with than this.”

***

Wesley took a deep breath, then knocked on the white-lacquered door with all the decisive resolution he could muster. After a moment, he heard the click-thunk, click-thunk of multiple deadbolts turning.

Lilah opened the door to her condo. “What do you want, Wesley?”

“To speak with you. You wanted me to hear your offer, right?”

“I believe my card listed my office, not my home.”

“You can probably understand why I’m not interested in a solo trip to Wolfram &amp; Hart.”

“Fair enough,” Lilah said, stepping aside and beckoning Wesley through the door. “Just understand that this place is as protected as my office in its own way, so don’t try anything.”

Wesley crossed the threshold into the apartment. He looked around at the stark furnishings and bare walls before turning to face Lilah.

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what are you offering?”

“One last chance, Wesley. That’s what we’re offering. L.A.—the country—the world. It’s all one big sinking ship. We’re your ticket off.”

“If you’re only going to talk in metaphors then I don’t need to be here,” Wesley said. “Be straight with me. If you really want me to play along, then you at least owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you a goddamned thing. But it’s not like it matters, anyway.” She crossed the room, sat, and motioned for Wesley to do the same. “You may as well sit down. This will take a while.”

Wesley sat, wincing at the pressure on his partly healed wound. He placed his cane by his side, before looking up at Lilah expectantly.

“Wolfram &amp; Hart is a law firm, but as you know, we have a wide variety of interests. Not all of those interests are legal or mystical. One area in which we specialize is weapons research, in service of our allies' interests as well as our own less immediately practicable research goals."

Wesley made an exasperated sound. "Lilah-- "

"What you have to understand is that no one saw this coming. _No one_. The Cliffs Notes version is that something catastrophic happened at an offshore research lab in the Pacific." Lilah paused for a moment, assessing. "We don’t know if it was an accident or sabotage. What we do know is that none of the fail-safes were effective, and that as a result, a cocktail of chemical and biological agents of sufficient virulence to kill every living thing on this planet has entered the ocean and atmosphere. I presume you know enough about current and wind patterns to figure out where it’s going to wind up?”

“Everywhere.”

“Exactly. Much of it would dissipate and this would be a matter of isolated, survivable disasters if it weren’t for two particularly nasty bugs." She swallowed and shifted against the sleek leather of her chair. "The first is a virus that makes bird flu and Ebola combined look like chicken pox. Airborne and fast-acting. Anyone who survives that will have to deal with the toxic cloud. The one that's already wiping out the birds - it's coming right at us.”

“Is that all?” Wesley said.

“Don’t kid yourself, Wesley. It’s enough. Just wait until the news reports pick up what’s already happening on the islands nearest to the installation. Once that happens, the real panic will set in. When the corpses start piling up, and the few people who aren’t dead or dying turn against each other, and the demons walk free, and the vampires figure out their food supply is headed for extinction. You think you’ve been in bad situations before? This is the end of the world. For real. No last minute reprieve. No finding the right incantation or ritual or sacred weapon. No _hope_. There’s nothing you can do here but be noble and die." She leaned toward Wesley, elbows braced into her thighs. "Or you can do what anyone would, given the chance. You can survive.”

Wesley leaned back, away from her. “Nice speech, Lilah. Did you rehearse that?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. And that scares me.”

“What are you going to do? You can barely even stand.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. But the Senior Partners do. They think you’re malleable.”

“Malleable?”

“Morally speaking. They also think you have serious mystical potential. I don’t have the whole story, but it’s something about how things were supposed to manifest down the line. The timetable got moved up.”

Wesley shook his head and asked, “So what’s the offer? How are we supposed to survive this?”

“Earth is doomed. But there are other dimensions.”

Wesley stood up. “I’ve heard enough.”

“We’re offering an escape hatch, Wesley, but it’s a limited time offer. Very limited. As in if you don’t take it now, there won’t be anyone around to help you take it later.”

“The answer’s no, Lilah,” Wesley said as he opened the door to leave. “I’ll take my chances here.”

***

“Do you believe her?” Gunn asked, breaking the long silence that fell when Wesley finished speaking.

“I do.”

“Why?” Cordelia asked. “When have we ever had reason to trust her?”

“It’s not a matter of trust. She’s scared. And she’s leaving. Something tells me that most of the senior staff at Wolfram &amp; Hart are also packing and leaving this dimension for good.”

“What did Wolfram &amp; Hart want with you?” Gunn asked.

“Apparently I’m a morally suspect potential sorcerer who’s worth transporting to a safer dimension. At a price. I’d be contracted to the firm, permanently.”

“And you turned it down?” Gunn said.

“Of course I turned it down.”

“What if we take that way out, but without the permanent indenture to evil?” Cordelia said. “Maybe we could find a portal—transport as many people as we can to safety, then come back once things are safe.”

“A portal to where? I don’t know about you, but every mystical portal I’ve encountered has been to some variety of hell dimension.”

Gunn sighed. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"We do what we always do,” Wesley said. “We help the helpless."

“How?” Cordelia asked.

“If what she told me is even remotely true, then it’s not going to be like the crises we’ve faced before. Have you ever read about the Black Death? The influenza epidemic of 1918? _Millions_ died. Tens of millions. People who lived through those were convinced that it was the end of the world and acted accordingly. We’re talking societal breakdown. People dying faster than they can be buried. Fleeing the cities to escape contagion but only spreading it further. Panic and everything that goes along with it. It’ll be chaos.”

“We have a one-room office and some apartments between us,” Cordelia said. "And as much as I miss the patrols of my high school years, in case you haven’t noticed, L.A. is a bit larger than Sunnydale, Wesley. Even if my visions weren’t M.I.A., there’s only so much random help we can offer.”

“So we don’t make it random,” Wesley said.

“Okay, plans are good,” Cordelia said, leaning against the desk. “I’m assuming this means you have one.”

“Yes. We set up the Hyperion as a place to make a stand.”

“You want to go back to the Hyperion?” Gunn asked.

“There’s an empty hotel we can use. We need space, beds, facilities. The hotel has all of these things. It doesn't make any sense not to.”

“Okay, leaving aside the issue of the ultra-brooding vampire who owns the place, how are we going to defend it?” Gunn asked. “Because that's what we'll need to do. It’s one thing when it’s a handful of us - but a full hotel? How do we keep track of everyone? Not to mention the hundredth window problem.”

“The what?” Cordelia asked.

Wesley said, “The hundredth window. The theory that any fortress is vulnerable if only one window in a hundred is unguarded.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrow at Gunn.

“What? A brother can’t study military strategy?”

“Of course you can,” Cordelia said. “I’m just not used to you getting all fancy with the jargon.”

Gunn grinned. “You’ve got to take me out of that little box you have me in, girl. I have layers.”

Wesley broke in with, “Do you suppose the Host is still in touch with the witches who put the protections on Caritas?”

“Probably,” Gunn said. “You thinking mystical protection?”

“Yes,” Wesley said. “We have the Hyperion blessed. Anyone who crosses the threshold—or enters a window—is limited to peaceful actions.”

Gunn nodded. “Okay then. But if we do this, then we do it one-hundred percent. Equal opportunity protection. We put the word out that all comers are welcome."

***

“So you want me to leave the shelter and move the kids into your hotel?” Anne asked, looking at Cordelia and Gunn from the other side of the desk in her tiny office.

"It's not safe here,” Cordelia said. “It’s too hard to defend.”

“Yeah,” Gunn said. “You’re still rebuilding from the invasion of the cop zombies. And when the shit hits it, word will get out that there's food to be had, both of the canned goods and the adolescent variety. These kids are tough, but not that tough.”

“And you’re gonna protect us?”

“We’ll protect each other,” Cordelia said. “We’re setting up the Hyperion as a safe haven. We’re going to need people who understand how to ration resources, and how to keep a lot of people calm—how to deal with a crisis.”

“What about Angel?” Anne asked.

“What about him?” Gunn said.

“Won’t he have a problem with you taking over his hotel?”

“Angel’s still out having his extended dark night of the soul,” Cordelia said.

“And anyway, we need it more,” Gunn said. “Call it apocalyptic eminent domain.”

Anne frowned. “Do you really believe it’s gonna get that bad?”

“Yes,” Cordelia said. “It is. I’ve seen enough to know that even if this blows over, it’s going to leave a lot of wreckage in its wake.”

“Look, we can help you board up the center,” Gunn said. “Anyone welcome here is welcome there as well. If this turns out to be nothing, then you can come back here and keep doing what you do. But if what’s about to go down is even half as bad as we think it’s gonna be, then we all need to pull together for anyone to survive.”

 

***

“Hey, folks,” the Host called out as he crossed the lobby to the front desk. He was flanked by two women and carried a large box. The contents of the box tinkled when he placed it on the counter.

“I come bearing weird sisters and gifts.”

Wesley pulled open one cardboard flap to peer inside. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a box of liquor,”

“Ding, ding, Wes. This represents Caritas’ highest shelf. I figure people who can actually get drunk should enjoy it. I could have brought the karaoke machine, but I thought you’d like this more.”

Gunn let out a low whistle and smiled. “You got that right,” he said.

“You’re gonna want to hide it from the kiddies, though,” the Host said.

“Oh, I’ll take care of that,” Cordelia said, taking the box and placing it below the counter.

“And I’ll show our guests where they can get started,” Wesley said, beckoning to the witches.

“Gunn, can I see you in the office for a moment?” The Host asked.

“Sure,” Gunn said.

The Host waited until Gunn had closed the door before saying, “I need you to sing something for me.”

“What?”

“Any little thing. Just a few lines.”

“Why?”

“I need to check something I thought I sensed when you whistled. Just indulge me.”

Gunn gave the Host a dubious look then, in a halting, off-key voice started singing, “Good friends we have, good friends we’ve lost along the way. In this great future, you can’t forget your past, so dry your tears, I say...”

“Marley. Nice.”

“It was my mother’s favorite song. She used to put it on the turntable when times got tough.”

The Host nodded. “Well, times are about to get the toughest they’ve ever been, and you’ve got a major role to play. You’re not just muscle, Gunn. You have brains, you have heart, and you have commitment. You know how to hold a group together—how to take care of people against terrible odds. So I need you to listen to me carefully, because this is for your ears only. This thing that’s coming? It’s for real, and it’s gonna be worse than you can imagine. Most people are nearing the end. A few can go either way. You’re the only one I’ve seen who’s for sure got a future.”

Gunn blinked a few times, then said, “Okay.”

“Look, I know I just hit you with a lot, and normally, I’d do the whole talking it through, lounge-host-as-counselor thing. But you’ll just have to take my word for it.” The Host pointed in the direction of the lobby. “When the lovely ladies are done with the hotel protection mojo, they’re gonna help me try to summon a portal, and they only have so much time they can spare.”

“A portal? To where?”

“Pylea. The hell dimension of my birth. I’d invite you guys along, but I’m sincere about wanting you to survive. Believe me, I’ll be looking to leave as fast as I can.”

The Host turned to leave the office.

“Hey,” Gunn said. “I don’t think you ever mentioned your name.”

“Who taught you your magical manners, Gunn? Don’t you know you never ask anyone mystical for their name if they haven’t volunteered it?”

“Yeah, well it’s not like you’re going to be around for me to do anything with it. Just wanted to know the name of the man who read my destiny.”

“Fair enough.” The Host took a deep sigh. “Back home, when they’re not cursing me, they call me Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan…”

“Okay, if that was my name, I would make people call me that _all the time_.”

“…but I prefer Lorne.”

Gunn smiled. “Ha! Lorne Greene!”

Lorne rolled his eyes and said, “You know, I’m usually spared that joke from people your age.”

“What can I say?” Gunn said, shrugging his shoulders. “My sister and I used to watch a lot of Battlestar Galactica reruns. Commander Adama gets much love.” Gunn reached out his hand. “Charles Gunn. Nice to make your formal acquaintance.”

Lorne grinned and took Gunn’s hand, saying, “Back at you. Oh, and one last thing. When Angel comes back—and he will—tell everyone to skip the _sturm und drang_ recriminations. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

***

They stood on the roof of the hotel with the setting sun behind them and watched as the planet’s shadow crept higher. The sky darkened in slow increments. The familiar dusky pinks and blues were accented by a haze of emerald clouds, making the horizon look as though it had grown a covering of verdigris.

“It’s beautiful,” Cordelia said. “It shouldn’t be so beautiful.”

“Is it so surprising?” Wesley asked. “How many glamours have we seen? How many times has the face of evil been striking instead of ugly? Why should this be any different?”

“English has a point,” Gunn said. “He probably could have been less corny making that point, but it's still a good one.”

“Did anyone think to bring a camera up here?” Wesley asked. “We should probably take a photograph so Angel can see it, too.”

“Does it really matter what the toxic death cloud looks like?” Gunn asked.

“We’re all up here looking at it, aren’t we?” Wesley said.

“Hey, guys?” Kate cut in. “Can we please keep this meeting on task?”

“Have I told you lately how glad I am that Angel brought you along?” Cordelia said. “Because I really am.”

“We still have open rooms, but the hotel’s getting full. Six more people have come down with respiratory problems,” Anne said, “and it’s going to get worse when those clouds come inland.”

“The virus deaths up north have hit the news,” Kate said. “People are starting to panic, both inside and outside of the hotel. More people are going to be looking for supplies—a safe place to stay. Some are going to be looking to vent. We have to plan for the possibility of being the target of a coordinated attack sooner rather than later.”

“The mystical protections on the building are holding, but people are going to have to be a lot more careful coming and going,” Wesley said.

“My guys have been keeping up the patrol rotation of the hotel’s outer perimeter. Kate, you and I can work with Angel to step up the self-defense training,” Gunn said before turning to face Anne. “What about supplies?”

“We have enough in reserve to feed everyone currently in the hotel for at least two months. That's including a frozen blood supply for Angel. And we’ve stored enough water in the basement for six months. But we’ll have to be careful with it, especially if the utilities go down and potable water becomes harder to get.”

“Not if,” Gunn said. “When.”

They fell quiet. The stillness of the air was a contrast to the chaos of the city below them.

They all turned around when the access door slammed open, and a young woman came through. She was shaking and trying to hold back tears.

“Melissa, what’s wrong?” Anne asked.

“It’s Adele. She isn’t breathing, and she’s blue.” The girl shuddered. “I think she’s dead.”

Anne walked over to Melissa and put her arm around her, then turned back to the rest of the group.

“Come on,” Kate said. “Show us where she is.”

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Cordelia said after Anne and Kate left the roof with the distraught teenager.

Wesley nodded. “You know we’ve been preparing for this for weeks, and I’m still not ready. I know how to read obscure texts and fight magical evil. Throw me at a vampire or ask me to solve a mystical riddle, then I know what to do. But I don’t know if I know how to do this.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Gunn said. “We help. We don’t get to choose the situation.” Gunn opened the access door. “We’re needed downstairs. Let’s go.”

“I’ll be right down,” Cordelia said as Gunn and Wesley left.

She turned back toward the view of the horizon they’d been watching. The sun had set, and the sky had gone dark. The ersatz clouds were still visible, reflecting the city’s light. Cordelia stood watching for a moment before her body was wracked by coughing. When her breathing returned to normal, she looked down and grimaced at the sight of the blood-specked phlegm on her hand. She wiped her hand on her jeans.

“We have work to do,” she said and pulled the door closed behind her.

_End_


End file.
